


Someday is Today

by quinnovative



Series: 4 times Jess calls Kara when something’s wrong with Lena, and 1 time Lena calls Kara herself [5]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Power Outage, SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnovative/pseuds/quinnovative
Summary: Lena has a panic attack, she finally calls Kara.





	Someday is Today

It’s been 3 weeks since the attack.

Rain pounds the windows and the sound echoes, reverberates through the office to Lena’s head. Thunder cracks and booms, shakes the edge of her desk. Lighting burns through the night sky.

She’s the only one at L-Corp, finishing up some final hand drawn reports.

One minute she’s making coffee—her sixth cup of the day because the night offers her no sleep these past weeks, just tossing and turning and fear that brings cold sweats and bolting up right and shaking hands—and then the next, the lights in the office flicker and shut off with a grand hum that crescendos before cutting out and leaving the room in silence. Her chest tightens and a shiver wracks its way up her spine.

Her heartbeat leaps and the dizziness sets in. The impending feeling of dread grasps its hands around her insides, sends nausea sloshing around and tingling sensations pricking at her cells.

 _Damn it,_ she knows what’s coming; knows it’s irrational and naïve to think she’ll be able to stop it this time as darkness floods in and her vision is reduced to nothing in the pitch black. She is unarmed to the memories that contort in her head at the sudden lack of light—just like the alley, just like that night.

With unstable swaying legs she makes it to the desk, curses the generator that never got installed, the other things she’s pushed backed because really, how many times did she expect the power to go out? She shuffles her hand through papers, patting around the desk until she finds her phone, grabs it.

Three weeks since she’s felt in control of her life—of her emotions, her reactions, and her relationships.

Her stomach clenches, lungs constricting. Her plan to find candles is immediately forgotten, all logic fleeting and lost as nightmare torrents in and drowns out her senses. She stumbles, kicks off her heels and paces, tries in vain to dispel the mounting panic. _Just think, damn it!_

Her toe slams into the edge of her couch and she curses, dropping down onto the furniture. Her desperate fingers grasp around a blanket, pull a pillow towards her chest and squeeze.

She’ll wait it out. She’ll handle it alone, like she always has. It’s habit, it’s natural, it’s normal.

Except nothing about this is normal. Twenty four year olds are not supposed to be CEOs and they’re not supposed to have brothers in jail for mass murder and they aren’t supposed to have mothers that don’t love them; they aren’t supposed to be attacked for their last names and their brains shouldn’t stop working because the lights went out; they shouldn’t be terrified of the dark and they shouldn’t have phantom feelings of the barrel of guns pressed against temples; they shouldn’t be surprised to have friends, brought to tears by hugs and the simple yet weighted promise of “I’ll see you tomorrow, get some rest, okay?” shouldn’t be something they spend all night repeating back to themselves.

Lena can’t help but think she shouldn’t be like this.

Three weeks of panic rising, compiling up to this moment where it will catch fire and burn a hole inside her.

She pulls her knees up and swallows. There’s dark behind her eyes and there’s dark when they’re open. Her breath hitches, inhales begin to burn as the time between them shortens. Her stomach clenches tighter and aches. Heat flushes her neck, up her cheeks, to her forehead. Ice cold runs down.

There’s the feeling of a gun pressed against her head, comes back just like it always does.

The knowledge that threat exists only in her mind does nothing to thwart the havoc it wracks on her body, tearing through her core and spreading outward.

Three weeks of waiting for the strength of her façade to crumble, and here it is. Torn down by a stupid, insignificant power outage in the middle of storm.

A vibration beside her sends her jumping, yelping, shaking into pieces until she looks down, eyes drawn to the dimmed white light. _Her phone. Kara._ Her fingers move on their own accord, unlock it, click the contact and call.

The whole time her mind screams.

Everything is so dark.

It’s so dark.

She is so alone.

But maybe, maybe she doesn’t have to be.

“Kara,” she manages to choke out through the lump in her throat, the sob that augments in size and power behind her ribs. “Kara, I need you.” Her voice is a watery strain against the storm outside, a whisper that quivers against the air and fights between the hyperventilation that consumes her lungs.

There’s a bang that cracks through the sky—something Lena initially thinks is thunder, but later identifies as the sound barrier being broken.

Then there’s Kara, kneeling in front of Lena with worry etched across her face in the darkness. The blonde fiddles with her own phone, flipping on the flashlight and putting it beside Lena, the image of Kara’s face is the first she sees against the memories that yank her down, away from reality and logic.

Then Kara’s looking at Lena, reminding her to breathe, trying to coax her from the traitor her brain has become.

“Hey, hey, Lena you’re okay. I’ve got you.” She ducks to catch Lena’s eyes. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Lena manages to give a small nod as tears stream from her cheeks, turn her throat raw, lungs working up and down, up and down. But Kara smiles at her, tucks Lena’s dark hair behind her ear.

“Let’s focus on breathing, okay?”

Her hands come up to find Lena’s face, cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing softly along her skin.

Lena hiccups and squeezes her eyes closed, pulls ravaging, desperate breaths into her lungs.

A tear slips out from behind her closed eyes and she reaches a hand forward, fingers jutting in Kara’s direction, clutching at the fabric of the blonde’s shirt as panic takes her away.

“Hey,” Kara whispers and her voice is low and smooth—soothing as it rises in Lena’s head, coats her mind. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here and I’ve got you, all right? I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She takes Lena’s hand and squeezes, guides it to her own chest and splays the CEO’s hands over her heart. “You’re okay, I promise.”

Lena lets out a strangled sob and then her chest heaves in silent gasps, tears slowing to hiccups to gentle streams that ebb and fade. Kara stays—always stays, rubbing her hand up and down Lena’s back, whispering in her ear.

When Lena tilts back, opening her eyes, Kara is there, illuminated by the cellphone light and looking back with a soft smile.

She eases Lena’s still shaking hand from her chest, brushes a kiss against it before she uses her own hands to steady Lena, one on each shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Lena. I’m right here with you and I always will be. If I’m not, all you have to do is call, you know that.”

Lena nods.

She knows it, finally does, all because of a power outage in the middle of storm that seems less stupid and less insignificant in this moment as she sinks into Kara’s hold and finds truth in the words Kara’s been promising for so long.

“Kind of a shitty someday.” Lena murmurs, buries her face against Kara’s shoulder in an attempt to stave off the mounting headache behind her forehead.

Kara shrugs, threads fingers through Lena’s hair, easing it from the perfect bun, letting it unravel into loose dark curls. “Tomorrow will be better,” she promises.

“And if it’s not?”

Kara kisses Lena’s hairline and the CEO melts, relents to the exhaustion drooping her eyelids. “Then you’ll call me, and I’ll be here, no matter how good or how bad, for all of your somedays.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this, I appreciate it so much.


End file.
